Sharing Is Overrated

My kids hear it constantly. It is probably one of the most repeated phrases in our home. Because it doesn't happen consistently, it requires what seems like an almost constant reminder.

"Share (insert approriate item) with your brother/sister!"

The above phrase is usually met with some variation of "I had it first!" or "it's mine!" Clearly sharing is still a work in progress around here.

This week we had visitors. Well, not exactly visitors, the kids are roughly the same ages and have grown up together. They typically play together well and sleepovers are as smooth as they can be at this age. A late night case of the giggles aside, this visit seemed no different from previous ones.

The kids got up way too early and we headed to the table for a healthy breakfast of PopTarts. After breakfast the girls headed to the bathroom to start getting ready for the day. Diva's toothbrush, complete with toothpaste, had already been laid out. I explained to Miss C that I couldn't find hers, but she could brush her teeth at home that morning. As things appeared under control, I headed to the other room. After dressing the boys, I realized the girls were still in the bathroom. Two little girls, a room with a ready water supply and silence ... I was a bit concerned.

I was pleasantly surprised to be greeted at the bathroom door by a lack of obvious damage. And then I noticed it ... Miss C was holding a toothbrush and there was a ring of toothpaste around her lips.
Diva proudly announced:
"Momma I let her use mine because she didn't have one."

Fabulous! We don't believe in sharing toys or food around here ... but toothbrushes are perfectly fine. As previously stated, sharing is a work in progress around here.

Baby Boy McMichael

The newest addition to our family will be here in a few short weeks. The kids are excited, if a bit unsure of what it all means. Watching them attempt to process the information has been an adventure of sorts.

There have been the typical, expected questions:
"When will he be here?"
"Where is he now?"
"How did he get in your tummy?"
"How are we going to get him out?"

Admitting to being somewhat of a coward, I have answered some of these and avoided others entirely. However, not everything can be avoided!

A recent conversation with Diva (in the midst of complete strangers) went something like this:
Diva: "What is our baby's name?"
Me: "Baby Boy"
Diva: "No, its McMichael."
Me: "No, remember it's Baby Boy."
Diva: "No Momma. That's his first name. His next name is McMichael."
Me: "Diva, what is your next name?"
Diva: "K****"
Me: "Baby Boy will have the same next name that you do, just like Little Man and Mommy and Daddy."
Diva: "No Momma!" *in a very frustrated and insistant tone*

I should also note that she is quick to share this information with anyone that will listen. Try explaining to acquaintances (or relative strangers) why your third child, that you claim to be your husband's, will have a completely different last name. I'm sure that will go over particularly well in the Baptist MDO program we use!

I just have a couple of questions:
Does anyone know Mr. McMichael?
Is he a nice guy?

The Birds & The Bees ... Kinda

When Little Man was born, Diva was three days shy of two-years-old. We never had a "Big Sister" conversation with her. When the day arrived, she was brought to the hospital and presented with the new baby ... end of story.

This time around has been slightly different. The kiddos will be almost five and three when baby #3 makes his grand entrance. Clearly, some sort of announcement had to be made. Considering our complex pregnancy history, I was in no hurry to share the news in case things didn't go according to plan. As time went on, there just never seemed to be a "perfect" time to tell them. I was constantly asked "You really haven't told them?" and "They haven't noticed your belly?" or some variation. The answer: no. They seemed quite oblivious and we were content to go along with it.

Finally, at 29 weeks we took the kids to an ultrasound and presented their new baby brother ... on a big screen. If you know Daddy, you understand just how fitting that is! Little Man was less than impressed, but Diva was absolutely mesmerized. She watched the screen for awhile, taking it all in and letting that little mind process it all. Then came THE QUESTION.

Diva: "How do we get him out of your tummy?"
Me: "We just do."
Diva: "But how?"
Me: "We go to the hospital and get him out?"
Diva: "How does the hospital get him out?"
Daddy: "They say abracadabra and get him out."

Okay, sure that is one approach - personally, I prefer complete avoidance. But, confusing them can be a good route too.

So, if she has an aversion to magicians later in life or decides to forgo an epidural in favor of "abracadabra" ... blame her daddy!